


It's Better After Midnight

by RawrSquared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, References to Paradise Lost, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3839986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RawrSquared/pseuds/RawrSquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Didn't anyone ever tell you? Stories are always better on long train rides to nowhere after midnight. ”</p>
<p>Sam watches Gabriel being obnoxious on a late night train to nowhere. It was self-preservation, really. He would have died of boredom otherwise. As it turns out, Gabriel is an amusing person to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Better After Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about trains and couldn't be bothered to do any research into them. I am currently reading Paradise Lost and have so far found it to be very amusing. It's an interesting read, especially if you're a big SPN fan. Lots of inspiration for the show from it. Also, if you've ever read Skulduggery Pleasant, Derek Landy gets a bit of inspiration from there too. 
> 
> Not beta-read. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Prompt here: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/332422016221735688/  
> (if you look at the prompt and think 'Is she basing Gabriel on herself?', the answer is sorta. Gabriel is a very typically loud mouth middle child. I am as well, so we share a lot of traits. I even think I sorta of look like him, but I may just be crazy. All the same, this version of the story is based off Gabriel and Sam. Though, admittedly, Gabriel's reactions don't differ greatly from my own. It does make him easier to write.)

He didn’t usually notice the other people around him. He tended to stick to his book or phone, like everyone else around him. He didn’t want to be rude by staring. That’s one of the reasons he noticed him, actually.

Well, one of the reasons.

When the man had first boarded the train, he had stared unashamedly at everyone. When Sam had met his eyes, he’d just grinned, waved, and _winked._

The next encounter was a bit more conspicuous.

He had been laughing. Loudly. One of those types of laughs that bursts out of you at something you find so uproariously hilarious that you simply can’t keep it, or stop it, because it’s just _that funny_. And being in a public place where no one laughs like that, it can’t be helped. Especially after midnight. You just have to laugh and laugh and laugh.

And he was.

He had a book in his lap. A thick book. Sam couldn’t see the title but it must have been good. He stopped laughing eventually and went back to reading, still giving little chuckles now and then. Sam went back to staring out the window.

He’d left his head-phones on the counter of that damn diner. He remembered now. Of course, ‘now’ was too late. Sam checked his watch. Still six hours left, if they weren’t delayed. And his phone wouldn’t last the trip.

The battery lasted almost an hour before he decided to turn it off. _Ten percent_. He’d need it once the train stopped.

The guy was laughing again. Sam cracked an eye open. It was a nice laugh. A real laugh. Not someone pretending to laugh at some stupid joke or pretentious action. Everything about him seemed real, really. He had taken his shoes off and propped his feet up in the empty seat across from him. There were only about ten people on the train- it was a red eye, so that was per the norm. Most people were sleeping, or, at the very least, reclining with their eyes closed.

He was interesting. This guy that laughed. His shoes were off- propped on the ground. Heavy brown boots. He was wearing a red button-down and dark jeans. But the guy’s socks…

Those were eye-catchers. One was neon blue. The other was forest green. He was humming now, he noticed. Softly. The tune sounded melodic- classical, almost. He had spread out rather magnificently over the two bench seats. His feet were propped up on the one side across from His with a backpack lying next to them. There was a messenger bag on the seat next to his body and he reached into it for something from time to time. A water bottle, mostly, and from time to time, a pen. He made enthusiastic notes in his book.

Eventually, He reached for the backpack, leaning over lengthwise across his feet for it and tugged a blanket out to drape across his legs.

As impressive as this sprawl was, he had noticed that it was contained. While everyone was loading onto the train and before it had left the station, he had kept the mess contained, backpack at his feet, messenger bag across his lap. The more time elapsed, the more comfortable he got.

His hair was the most unusual shade of gold. Sam noticed because he kept running his fingers through his hair. His bangs seemed to be annoying him, falling into his eyes. He had already caught Sam staring. Twice.

Sam couldn’t help it. He was interesting. Sam watched him searched wildly through his bag for several moments before slumping comically. He had no idea what He was searching for. Another pen, maybe?

Eventually, He started reading again. His profile was nice. A bit of a narrow face with a mouth that’s default seemed to be a sly smirk. His mouth didn’t stay stationary for very long. His lips kept curving, moving, smiling, frowning, mumbling words, but his whole face moved with the actions. Sam noticed a chain around the guy’s neck he kept playing with and was struck with the urge to know the story behind it. This guy didn’t seem the type for ornamentation. Sam wanted to know a lot about this guy.

He looked like he could tell good stories.

Sam noticed an annoyed look growing on his face. It was tempered with something else, too. Exasperation, maybe. He didn’t know. It culminated with a look of growing horror before he snapped the book shut and glared at it fiercely, like it had personal killed his grannie and kicked his dog after stealing his favorite toy. He seemed the type of guy to smash a stranger’s foot even if he was a kid and had just seen his grannie killed.

He had changed books, Sam realized. The one he had been laughing at so heartily earlier had been green. This one that had offended him so was black. Sam only really noticed because he stowed the black one away and pulled the green one back out. It had gold lettering, but Sam was too far away for him to make out more than that.

He pulled it open and fell into a deep trance. This book seemed to give him more trouble than the other. He flipped the pages more slowly, used a bookmark to keep place, and was frowning more, albeit in an ‘I’m concentrating’ way as opposed to a ‘this is bad’ face. He smiled too, though. He seemed to enjoy this book, more lost in it than even the other one.

His face drew him in. Sam glanced at his watch. Four hours left. He had to talk to him. This silence would drive him crazy.

Sam stood eventually, and rocked his way to his seat. The guy didn’t look up until he had cleared his throat a few times and finally ventured an ‘excuse me’. His head snapped up and he blushed a little.

“Oh, uh yes?” His voice was little confused. A strange man was standing before him, one he had caught staring at him several times, and it was half past two in the morning. Most people would be confused.

He had brown eyes. But that was quite right. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to be anything so generic, practically gold and shining.

“Oh, do you need a place to sit, I kinda exploded everywhere, I can make room…” he started gathering up his stuff, stowing it away and pulling his backpack off the seat, along with his feet.

“N-no, I… what made you laugh so hard?” It wasn’t what Sam had meant to say. He didn’t know what he had meant to say.

“Oh!” He blushed a bit again, but smiled too, and his whole face seemed to light up. “Paradise Lost. It’s funnier than you’d think.”

“I think I’ve heard of it… By John Milton?” Sam sunk into the seat he’d vacated, but leaned forward, happy to have a reason to not be alone now.

“That’s the one. It’s a great story. It’s about Lucifer’s fall from Heaven and the ensuing… chaos.

Sam frowned. “Didn’t he write poetry… like four hundred years ago?”

The guy was smiling but it was more like a grin now. “Yeah, technically. It reads a bit like poetry, I suppose, but it doesn’t really feel like it.”

“It sounds a bit heavy for late night reading,” Sam mused.

The guy grinned. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you? Stories are always better on long train rides to nowhere after midnight.” A beat of silence before he stuck out his hand. “They call me Gabriel.”

“Hey, Gabriel,” Sam smiled. It was nice to put a name to the face. “Sam Winchester.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and critics appreciated. Also, I've been thinking about writing a SPN fairytale story or two. Let me know what stories you'd think would fit the different characters and pairings, please! Any details you'd care to give would help :)  
> Thanks!


End file.
